


Siobhahn

by Eyeslikechrome



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 10 years after the game ends, F/F, F/M, Frisk is 18, Frisk is not the MC, Goat Mom Is Best Mom, Grillby/Main character, M/M, MC needs a drink, Mages, Magic, Magic Freeform, No firey skeleton triangles here kids, Papyrus is a cinabunny, Pascifist ending, Protective Sans, Sans and main character pissing matches, Sans with a different OC, SlaveTale, Smol Grillby, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tiny Grillby, Violence, cursing, sans and main character eventual friends, soul bonds, soul freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 16:29:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11971239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyeslikechrome/pseuds/Eyeslikechrome
Summary: Ten years ago monsters escaped the Underground and joined humanity on the surface. Things are just starting to calm down and for the most part society has accepted their new neighbors. Unfortunately for Siobhahn, old family mistakes have come back to bite her when he grandfather passes away leaving her his bar and the family guardian to deal with. Now saddled with figuring out how to handle a business and understanding magic, Vahn finds herself drawn to a monster than has been enslaved to her family for generations. Can she figure out how to make all of this work? Or will Sans kill her first?





	Siobhahn

Siobhahn

It was in my grandfather’s will that at his funeral he be cremated, poured a shot of his favorite scotch, and his ashes be placed where he could watch over his bar. I hadn’t been there when the will was read so I had to take their word for it. Honestly, it was just like him. Really, I know it was just an excuse for him to piss off our relatives one last time by forcing them to drink Scotch rather than a “proper Irish whiskey” like the trollish arse he was. So we did. We stood there together in the quiet of the cremation chamber that had been done up nice in white and red and gold with the family coat of arms and pictures of my grandfather plastered all over a long table. Soft music over rode the crackle of the fire taking his body that was hidden in a clean white box that had been given a shot of rich, amber, twenty five year old single malt scotch. Everyone that looked (emphasis on looked) old enough in the room held an identical shot glass full of the pricey booze and with a sigh, I lifted mine skyward. 

The full room of uncles, aunts, cousins, and friends mimicked the motion and as one, we drank. The mouthful screamed down my throat like peat flavored fire, smooth and aromatic. My eyes watered more from the finality than the drink, though that certainly wasn’t helpful in keeping me composed in front of the masses and I swallowed down the lingering bite. It was a terrible way to drink it; a waste really. It needed a big chunk of ice in a fat glass and a moment to breathe, not to be gulped down like some cheap ass vodka. But then, that was the point. Grandfather’s life had been a bit like that shot; full, rich, and gone so quickly with a lingering after taste that would last. 

“Fucking Scotch!” My uncle Jon finally spat out and the venom in his tone had the entire room that had been serene in its silent mourning exploding into laughter and tears. 

Hours later, I was more than a little tipsy, forced to endure round after round of booze while members of the party took up the main bar that had basically been home for as long as I could remember, telling stories about Pap. It was when the last of them trickled out from the old, well loved establishment that Pap’s Lawyer and good friend wandered over, beer in hand and settled into a stool across from me. I’d hopped behind the bar earlier to help serve the others with my cousins. 

“‘Ey, Vahn, how are you holding up?” He asked, running a hand over his bald head. I shrugged. 

“As well as can be expected. What do you need, Mr. Warren?” I asked him, spinning the mostly empty glass on the bartop between my fingers that I’d been nursing for the past half hour. It was a pretty shit Long Island that my younger cousin had tried to make and I didn’t have the heart to not drink it. 

“You weren’t at the reading of the will with the rest,” He commented and again, I shrugged. It wasn’t important. What had been important at the time involved bawling my eyes out and getting everything out of my system before the family had to see me. It had mostly worked. 

“Who is my new boss, by the way?” I asked sarcastically, amused by my own joke and he smiled, saluted me with his beer and raised it to his lips. 

“You are! Thanks for the drink, by the way,” He answered cheerfully and I suddenly felt like I needed to vomit up every ounce I’d drank that evening. I gaped at him stupidly for a full minute or so, blinking rapidly and struggling a bit to comprehend it all. Part of me was convinced that I was having a drunken hallucination. It’s been known to happen in the past on some of my wilder escapades. But the look that Warren was leveling at me was too sincere, to intentional. I swallowed. 

“Why me? There are older, closer people in the bloodline. Hell, Jon’s been pining after this place since he was my age! I don’t know anything about running a bar!” I hissed, suddenly angry. Why in the fuck was this mess suddenly my responsibility!? My fingers clenched around the cool, sweating glass suddenly feeling nearly sober. 

“You’ve worked here practically since you were a little girl,” Warren reasoned, completely unflustered by my attitude and it only made me more angry. 

“Knowing how to kiss the asses of customers and pour a decent drink is very different from running a business. Pap never trained me in book keeping or anything not related to food or booze. I’m a glorified waitress and a half ass bartender,” I snapped and my accent was heavy as it usually got when I was angry and or drunk. It drawled out my vowels and added that Irish burr to each syllable that was thick enough to touch. 

“Well, apparently that is enough for your Granddad. There is more. Obviously with the deed to this place, all of the old man’s assets and finances are yours as well, including the apartment upstairs,” The composed man continued, happy as a clam and obviously amused by my agitation. I was shaking my head back and forth like a goddamned bobble head doll as he rattled off a list of things that the old man had apparently left me. Other than a few family heirlooms for a few particular family members, literally everything was mine. It felt a bit like I’d been gut punched. I loved my Pap, but we were hardly what I’d call a healthy family relationship. He was a crotchety shit who liked to drink too much and was a bit of a standoffish ass when it came to anything remotely resembling emotions. We fought more than we got along and we never really spoke of anything meaningful hardly ever. 

“Anything else that you want to suddenly dump into my lap while I’m an emotional wreck and blitzed out of my mind? May as well get to it and let me hear it so that I can pass the fuck out and forget this whole week happened,” I asked before taking a long gulp of the alcohol in front of me. He suddenly looked serious, wiping his brow out of nervous habit and toying with his beer bottle. Well, if that wasn’t reassuring.

“Yeah, there is one more thing. It’s complicated. You know the old stories about family guardians and such, right?” He asked, tapping the glass against the bartop in an annoying cadance. I glared. 

“Can’t say I do. Pap wasn’t one for bed time stories, Mr. Warren,” I answered, my brows furrowing. What in the hell was he on about?

“Right. Right, of course. Well, listen, this is important. Meet me for lunch tomorrow and we will talk privately about this final matter when both of us are sober. You’ve had a long night. I’ll help you close up and you head home, or upstairs and get some rest,” He said with a charming smile that cooled my temper a bit. He was right. I was in no state to process anything that he was telling me. I could tell that because my vision had started to darken around the edges and I couldn’t feel my limbs fully. 

“Alright,” I replied, a sigh that ended up as more of a groan leaving me. 

“Alright. Noon then?” He asked and I tried nodding, only realizing it made the room spin fantastically and instead settled for a response of, “sure.” 

I vaguely remember lining the bar with the dirty glasses and tossing away trash in bins before showing Warren out and locking the door. There was no way I’d be able to drive back to my apartment tonight. So reluctantly and stiffly, I climbed the two flights of stairs to the apartment that my grandfather had occupied much of his life. He wasn’t a very clean man, and spent more time downstairs than up in the spacious place that had filled with clutter. I was too drunk to really care in that moment about the stale scent of tobacco smoke and other things. I flopped down on the couch, wrapped myself in the quilt that was folded across the back of it and passed the hell out. 

It was nearing ten in the morning by the time that my phone alarm managed to break through my dead to the world sleep. The scent alerted me to where I was pretty instantly. Bile rose up the back of my throat and I barely managed to make it to the bathroom before tossing my cookies all over the wood floor. Ugh. I very rarely get hangovers. Must have forgotten to drink water before falling asleep. Miserably, I cleaned up my mess and climbed into the shower. Thankfully, I still had toiletries and a change of clothes stashed here for nights when I was too tired or buzzed to make it home. I stood under the shitty showerhead with no pressure until the water ran cold before working up the motivation to drag myself out into the real world. 

Dressed and feeling a bit better in a simple long skirt and tank top, I surveyed the apartment critically. Pap was usually too lazy or tired after working the bar to do much of anything in his personal space that resembled work and he was a bit of a pack rat. The entirety of one wall save for a spot for the flat screen television was covered in stacked, empty bottles of booze for some unknown reason. I knew there was a coffee table and end tables for the couch somewhere under the stacks of unopened mail and newspapers, discarded cigarette and cigar cases, ashtrays overflowing with burnt leftovers and crinkled butts of cancer-sticks. A picture window with a niched seat took up another wall. The seat was loaded with laundry baskets of dirty clothes, books, and unopened twentyfour packs of soda, which was a shame because it was a great place to lounge. The floor needed mopped for sure and I didn’t even want to look closer at the bathroom. About the only area of the whole place that wasn’t cluttered was what had counted as my room when I had been living here with Pap. It was a loft room, a shiny red curtain tacked to the vaulted ceiling overhead to cover the opening for privacy giving the inside a bit of a tent feel. It was mostly empty save for a dresser that didn’t fit in my apartment and a few boxes. 

The idea of having to clean the mess was enough to wear me out all on it’s own. I ran a hand over my face with a groan and left before the scent of smoke could linger on my hair and skin, remembering that Warren was supposed to meet me in under an hour. I busied myself with cleaning up the mess left behind from last night, scrubbing glasses and carefully placing each one back in it’s rightful slots and shelves. I let my eyes wander over the interior of the bar as I worked, lingering more on the place than I have ever done before. It was a well loved pub, the wooden floors scraped and worn from countless shoes and chairs but well cared for. Looking out over the whole of it from the aged bar, the wall to the right was lined in a row of honey maple wood booths with comfortable red leather cushioning and thick wooden tables covered in shiny varnish that were marked by grooves, scratched in phone numbers, curse words, and the occasional carved in drawing all done by drunken patrons. 

The walls were charcoal black, contrasting to the light wood of the floor and tables that were scattered in a loose formation through the empty space. A low stage took up the far right corner, perfect for live performances, and a wide, tinted window showed a nice view of the busy street outside. The decor was primarily photos of family and regulars in the bar, images of Ireland, various liquor brand signs that were haphazardly placed. Low, warm lighting made the place cozy and isolated from the world outside. There was a very well kept pool table in the back of the room as well as a Jukebox that was honestly the newest thing in the place. The bar itself was my favorite thing in the place. Long and made of the same wood as the rest of the furnishings, it gleamed in the overhead lights, red capped, black stools with backs pushed snugly up to it. Rows of taps lined the wall behind it and above, glass shelves showcasing countless bottles of every liquor imaginable. Overhead, racks held rows of champagne flutes, highballs, mugs, and more that tossed reflections of light all over. It was an old, well loved, cared for bar. 

Pap had adored his bar. I honestly didn’t think that I deserved it. How could I hope to care for it half as well as he had? Just as my eyes were heating again with tears, the bell jangled announcing the return of Mr. Warren. 

“Hey Vahn, how are you feeling?” He greeted me and I gave him a forced smile that probably looked more like a grimace. 

“Like I need to drink more,” I half joked and he gave me a sympathetic smile that I instantly hated. 

“Come on, let’s walk to the deli down the block. Get something solid in you and I am sure you will feel a lot better,” He reasoned. The walk was quiet and tense and awkward. Normally, I liked Mr. Warren. He was a good guy, laid back for a lawyer. Today though, I could see the lines of tension in him plain as day and it had me worried. We sat with hot sandwiches at a booth in the back corner for privacy. The place was mostly empty, one of those mini grocery stores with an attached deli and restaurant that secretly had amazing food but that most people were too busy or turned off by it’s simple looks to bother with it. 

I’d settled for a cream chicken sandwich that was made with crushed, salty potato chips, shredded, roast chicken, and a homemade cream soup on a thick, crispy baguette with a small pile of dill spears on the side. It chased away most of the lingering hangover feeling between tall glasses of fresh mixed cherry coke. And despite how concerned I was about the nervous, mostly quiet man across from me, the food was delicious enough to distract me from all of it. Or at least it did until I was sitting there with a mostly empty plate and he was pushing a small folder across the table at me.

“How much do you know about your family history, Siobhahn?” Mr. Warren asked, suddenly looking very much like the successful lawyer that faced down judges and criminals with a practiced ease. The look covered him like a mask a little at a time, his shoulders straightening, eyes hardening, and expression going pleasant, but blank of anything useful. There was a serious calculation that I’d never seen before on the usually happy, carefree sort of man. I’ve never really seen him as much of a lawyer in all of the years that I’ve known him. He’d always seemed too nice, too open about everything. But looking at the man across the table now, I could definitely see it and it was unnerving as hell. 

“I know that it is old.They moved the family business here from Ireland and settled here in the city and more of us gradually followed until a large chunk of them moved to the area. I know there are even more of us over there still and that other than letters on holidays, we don’t talk,” I answered, suddenly feeling small under his scrutiny, “ Pap and Da never really said much about any of it.”

“The clan O’Faeh is one of the oldest lines of blood. It has been traced back to it’s founder, Brendan Faeh. And like a lot of things from Ireland, the clan is heavily steeped in magic, or was,” The lawyer began, folding his hands on the table in front of him. I blinked, brow furrowing as I gave him a look that was less than amused. 

“Look, no offence Brian, but how in the fuck does this have anything to do with the fact that my Pap left me the bar?” I asked, still feeling testy about the huge responsibility the man had dumped into my lap. I was impatient and wanted to get all of this out of the way so I could do some form of damage control. It all certainly explained why my uncles and cousins were fairly distant and gruff with me. I’d taken it as grief. Apparently most of them were just pissed that Pap hadn’t given them anything of value. Figures. Brian Warren sighed and it was tired. 

“Everything, Vahn. The clan name isn’t a coincidence. Faeh was adopted as the clan name after your forefathers encountered a Fae, Fair folk, a fairy, whatever you want to call it. Back then, they didn’t realize exactly what they were messing with,” He continued and I had to interrupt again because this history lesson was becoming steadily more ridiculous. 

“Brian, I love a good fantasy story as much as the next but-”

“Just let me finish. Please,” He snapped and my jaw clicked shut. The man recentered himself and began again, “ They didn’t realize at the time that Fae were actually simply what humans back then called Monsters of the more mystical sort.”

I was suddenly interested. Monster kind had been a controversial topic for years. They’d emerged from under the mountain around ten years ago and response had been mixed. Things had been a bit crazy ever since. The affirmation that yes, souls were real and yes magic was a thing, had caused the world to erupt into a strange mess of wonder, fear, and religious fervor. Most people seemed pretty happy to meet the race we’d apparently banished after a long, brutal war, others had been terrified and suspicious. The couple thousand monsters were gradually welcomed into society with a heavy dose of caution. I’d seen several, of course, living in the city that rested in the shadow of the mountain, but never really met any of them up close and personal. There weren’t all that many of them and Ebbot and the world in general was a big place. The lack of actually talking to one didn’t stop me from being pretty fascinated with them. 

“Your founder was a mage. Fact. And as a mage, he bound the monster to the family bloodline. He turned the monster into a slave of sorts, a family guardian with powerful magic. When the monsters were forced under the mountain, this family guardian went with them, despite the strong connection to the family. You would have to ask him about that,” Warren explained. My heart hammered in my chest so hard that I felt like it was going to explode. Chills broke out on my arms and spine and I licked my lips nervously. 

“He. The monster, he’s still alive?” I asked stupidly but disbelief and shock makes all of us ask pointless questions. 

“Yes. As you can imagine he is quite old, though you wouldn’t know it from looking at him. The point is this. Your Grandfather was given the role of clan leader, head of the family from his father. When ten years ago, said monster showed up on your Grandfather’s doorstep, you can imagine his surprise,” Warren laughed, though it wasn’t a happy one. 

Ten years ago was around the time that Pap had started to become distant. I had been seventeen and the man had become abrasive. We couldn’t have a single conversation about anything without him getting overly pissed and when I turned eighteen, I moved out, unable to handle his attitude any longer. I continued to work at the bar, even through college, but other than that, the two of us kept our contact minimal. We saw each other and worked together everyday, but we didn’t really talk. What the actual fuck?

“Why hasn’t the bond been broken? Surely there is someone who knows how to break it?” I asked when I could find my voice. I did not like the idea of some poor soul stuck serving anyone, let alone me! Was that even legal? 

“No. Mages have been pretty much extinct for centuries now. And even if we did know one, the chances of them being able to break this bond are slim,” Warren answered with a grimace. 

“What do you need from me, exactly?” I asked while pushing down my dread. 

“You are next in line to inherit the bond. It only passes to women of the family and you are the closest blood daughter of the clan. Your grandfather forbade the monster from connecting to you when he first appeared. He felt that he needed to protect you and like the stubborn ass he was, he didn’t want to listen to reason. The monster is...ill. We think that he may be dying because of the bond. Because it hasn’t been completed,” The lawyer explained and my stomach dropped like I were on the first hill of a roller coaster. I sat there staring at him like he was some sort of insect for a long time. I didn’t think that I was tall enough for this ride and I wanted off. 

“That folder contains your Grandfather’s will. Please read over it carefully and sign and date the bottom. After, come and meet the family guardian. Complete the bond,” Warren finished, looking a bit like he wanted to sink into the floor under my glare.

“How is this legal at all?” I hissed, suddenly pissed for a lot more reasons. My hand shook as I flipped the papers open, eyes darting over the small print listing all of my newly gained assets and burdens. And yes, there were a whole two pages detailing the bond with a monster that was apparently named Ignatius “Grillby” O’Faeh. I was baffled and more than a little hurt that Pap had hidden this from me. Even more so if the monster in question was as sick as Warren was suggesting. At least the name of the family pub suddenly made a hell of alot more sense. Grillby’s. Pap had always said that the name origin had been an old family secret. No shit. I was far too sober for any of this shit.

“That is the issue. Legality doesn’t really matter in this case. This is a magic issue and one that has been examined very carefully by our legal team as well as envoys representing the monsters. It is something that we’ve been debating and trying to figure out for the past ten years, honestly. We feel that it is best to set a series of terms that are beneficial for both parties after Mr. Grillby is fully recovered. I was asked to talk to you and introduce the two of you after the funeral,” Brian sighed, facade of composure dropping away to show exactly how worn out he was. I sighed. Again. 

“When does he want to meet?” I asked, feeling suddenly subdued and so very tired myself. Warren perked right up. 

“As soon as you are able. Mr. Grillby has been mostly bed ridden for the past several months and if the bond is at fault, the sooner that the two of you meet, the better,” He said with sudden enthusiasm that I couldn’t match. I ran a hand through my too red hair, squeezing the loose curls tight to feel the pull on the back of my neck, a reminder of this not being some strange dream. 

“Alright. Alright, let’s go now. Get this over with. If I am the reason this guy is sick, I don’t want to make it worse,” I relented, feeling nerves bubble up in my stomach and making me regret the food I’d eaten. This whole situation was fucked up. We paid and left in Mr. Warren’s fancy silver car. The trip through the city toward the designated monster district that had cropped up along the north side, closest to the mountain was short and quiet. The pub was very close to it and it had been a bit surprising to me that monster customers hadn’t really been a thing for us. I had thought that perhaps it had been because they weren’t drinkers, but now I was starting to think that it was because of my grandfather. That thought left a bitter, foul taste in my mouth. I hadn’t really gotten along with the man easily, but I hadn’t thought that he was a speciest prick. 

“I should probably warn you now that the poor guy isn’t in the best shape. He’s… well a fire elemental,” Warren said as we were pulling up to a nice looking two story home in the new suburbs that were put together for the monsters. It was cheerful and homey, warm colors with a very nice looking, vintage convertible sitting in the driveway in front of a two car garage. I did my best not to give into the urge to molest the car and dutifully followed Brian to the door. Before the lawyer could knock, the nice red door was yanked open rather abruptly, making me nearly jump out of my skin. An eight foot tall, honest to god, skeleton stood dramatically in the doorward, grinning cheerfully in a frilly pink apron and chef’s hat. Oh my god. 

“HUMANS! WELCOME! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU TO ARRIVE! PLEASE COME IN!” The monster stated in a loud, yet cheerful voice that made my teeth rattle. Holy shit. It was intimidating as hell, but there was a sincerity, a genuine friendliness in the big guy’s demeanor that offset the fact that he was somewhat scary that had me relaxing. He just seemed kind. It was difficult to put my finger on as I stepped into his home. The place was neat and comfortable, plush furniture and soft, thick carpeting with tasteful decor. It wasn’t what I was expecting from a monster home. That made me feel like a speciest asshole. 

“Hello, Papyrus, this is Ms O’Faeh. Siobhahn, this is one of the friends that Mr. Grillby has been staying with,” I smiled up at the tall skeleton around my nerves and the big guy’s face seemed to light up. Suddenly, I found myself in the biggest bear hug I’ve ever gotten in my life. He smelled like food and laundry and everything homey and I stiffly returned the hug with a startled laugh. 

“I’M SO GLAD TO MEET YOU! YOU MUST BE HERE TO MAKE GRILLBY FEEL BETTER!” Papyrus beamed, setting me carefully on my feet. His smile was infectious and my own widened until I felt a deep chill crawled over my skin like a thousand ants. 

“She sure is, bro,” The voice was a low, drawl and laced with a barely concealed threat that made me want to leave the house right then and there. I glanced to the stairs overhead at a second skeleton, this one closer to my own height. He was thick and dressed casually in a well loved blue hoodie and shorts and watched me with a too big smile that did not meet his black eye sockets at all. Somehow, I could just feel the animosity from the shorter skeleton, just as I could feel the elation from the taller. I swallowed hard around my heart that had crawled up my throat just looking at the guy. He was pissed. And I had a feeling that somehow, it was my fault that he was pissed. 

“SANS, BE POLITE TO OUR GUESTS!” Papyrus scolded loudly and the shorter skeleton blinked his eye sockets in a way that should be impossible. Two points of white light glowed in the depths of that blackness when he reopened them and his posture eased into something less aggressive. I released the breath I was holding. 

“My bad, bro. Awfully monsterous of me not to introduce myself. I’m a slave to my nature I guess,” Sans, the newcomer intoned and there was a sharpness to his tone, despite the lessened hostility. My eyes narrowed as my temper simmered while Papyrus screeched something about puns. He was accusing me of something that I had nothing to do with and it pissed me off. I wasn’t stupid. I worked nearly my entire life around vaguely disguised insults and threats in the bar industry and I was anything but amused by it. 

“I’m finding your attitude far more rude at this point. So why don’t you just come out and say whatever is rattling around in that skull of yours and we can get this out of the way,” I stated bluntly, fear and nerves instantly forgotten in the wake of my irritation. It was one of my bigger issues, honestly. I had a very hard time keeping my opinions to myself on a good day. When I was angry, even less so. I’ve been told that the fiery temper ran in the blood of most women in my family. I believed it. I don’t really remember him getting right into my personal space close enough for me to see the dancing colors in his left eye and feel the hum of something static in the air around him. Papyrus was worriedly shifting back and forth behind his brother looking a bit lost and frightened. I could hear Mr. Warren’s soothing calls of my name over the rush of my heart in my ears, but I just couldn’t for the life of me, calm down. I stared back at the skeleton that looked a bit like he wanted to eat me alive and gave him my professional smile reserved for asshole customers.

“Heh. You have guts, kid. I’ll give you that,” Sans chuckled. His eyes darted down to my chest and my irritation snapped to full blown anger then. He was a fucking pervert!

“Hey. Bone boy. Eyes are up here. You want to check me out? At least buy a fucking beer from the bar first like all of the rest of the assholes,” I spat and I could feel my cheeks coloring in anger and embarrassment. He laughed then, full and throaty. 

“ Doll, you aren’t my type. I don’t trust you. And I don’t want you near Grillby,” Sans stated, smile vanishing. It was just then that I realized that he wasn’t moving his mouth to talk at all and yet I was still hearing him perfectly clear. Weird. And then he slumped, hands in his pockets, “but he needs you. I hate it, but there isn’t anything else we can do. So you are going to go up there to the guest room and fix him. And I am going to keep an eye on you.”

I looked past him to the stairs, blinking through my anger and odd revelations about monster anatomy. A hard, skeletal hand snagged my chin firmly and forced me to look back at him, left eye blazing with magical blue and yellow fire that flared and flickered in angry patterns. 

“If you do anything to hurt him, anything, y o u ‘ r e g o i n g t o h a v e a b a d t i m e.” he hissed, voice dropping octaves and my skin crawled with what I could only assume was his magic. It took my breath away like the frigid air of a too cold day in winter, left a deep, unsettling chill all the way to my bones that trembled in his grip. And it pissed me off more. My breath came in short huffs through my nose as I glared at him, teeth grit so tight that they made a grinding sound. 

“If you don’t get your fucking hand off of me, I am going to break it,” I stated, well beyond rational and more than done with this situation. Looking at him, I could tell he wanted to keep it right where it was to test me, to see if I’d follow through with my threat and somehow, I got the feeling that he wanted it, wanted me to make a move so he’d have an excuse. That only made me more livid to realize. He was picking a fucking fight on purpose. 

“What’s wrong, Doll, don’t like being touched by monsters?” He asked, thumb cheekily stroking my jaw. 

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you are a monster. I don’t like ANYONE manhandling me without my permission, especially assuming pricks like you,” I spat, tempted to bite him but knowing that probably wouldn’t end well. I enjoyed having all of my teeth thank you.

“So you like being man handled huh?” He drawled with a playful leer and it took all of my effort to not roll my eyes at him. That of course meant that my mouth instantly relayed whatever my brain supplied as a come back.

“Only if they pull my hair and slap my ass while they are doing it. Now can we stop the dick waving competition since neither of us have one?” I stated, quick as a whip. Was I actually into that sort of thing? Hell if I knew, but it was habit at this point to respond to any sort of lewd statement thrown my way with something worse. Pervert chicken we called it. After dealing with the drunken night crowd as much as I had, I had gotten a lot of practice and it was second nature. He blinked and his cheeks flushed a brilliant blue, a suddenly nervous laugh escaping him as he retracted his fingers from my sore jaw like he’d been stung. It would have been kind of adorable if I wasn’t pissed at him. He watched me like he didn’t quite know what to make of me. The feeling was mutual. 

“Sans, sans the skeleton,” he introduced himself with an outstretched hand. I did not shake his hand because I didn’t want to touch him and the odd feeling magic again. It was also because he was an asshole and I was feeling like a vindictive bitch. 

“Vahn. Vahn O’Faeh. ” I replied reluctantly. I glanced at Papyrus, who looked more confused than anything else and then to my inherited lawyer before brushing past them to head upstairs. I needed to be away from them before I said or did anything else. The wooden banister was cool under my heated fingers and once I’d reached the top of the stairs and into the hall out of sight I stopped and took deep breaths. My head pounded and heart skittered about in my chest frantically. What in the fuck was wrong with me, saying that shit to a monster that could probably murder me with no effort whatsoever? Me and my big mouth. 

Thankfully the rooms were labeled. Papyrus’ door had a brightly colored sign with an actually very well done depiction of himself in the convertible outside in markers. Sans’ was just a plain piece of paper with his name in all lower case in blue. That alone said a lot about the brothers. The third room was not labeled and was open. The room was a dark blue hue with a twin bed, night stand, and a simple black dresser. Basics for any guest to use I assumed. The shades were lowered to keep out the sunlight and a very low light, similar to candlelight flickered about the room near the bed. My brow furrowed. So where was he? 

It was precisely when I had that thought that I noticed the blankets move and a tiny, glowing person weakly pushed a sheet down enough to look up at me. He was...adorable. He was small enough to fit into the palm of my hand, curled up atop the large pillow, swathed in blankets way too large for him. His body from what I could see of it, seemed to be made entirely of fire. Little crackling wisps of flame made up his hair that wavered and moved sluggishly as he struggled to sit up. 

“Hey, you don’t have to get up, it’s alright,” I murmured softly and he froze, staring at me with large white eyes. Slowly, he eased back into the pillow with a little sigh and I felt my heart melt a little. He looked so tired. Poor little guy. He smiled then at me, a jagged little curl of lips and I smiled back, confrontation with Sans completely forgotten. The tiny fire elemental gestured me closer and I hesitated briefly before crossing the room to the bed, perching myself on the edge nervously and watching him with barely restrained wonder. He was fascinating. This was my family guardian? He was nothing like I had expected, but I wasn’t disappointed. Why had my grandfather wanted to keep me away from this cute little guy? 

“I take it that you are Grillby? Or do you prefer Ignatius?” I asked, keeping my voice low. I could suddenly understand why Sans had put on so much of a show and gotten so protective of the tiny being lying before me. The little fire monster rasped out a little chuckle, eyes crinkling at the edges in sweet smile that broke my heart. 

“I haven’t heard that name in a long time. Grillby is fine,” He said in a quiet, masculine voice that had me thinking of a warm summer wind teasing through a low campfire. Like Sans, he didn’t move his mouth to speak, but small sparks rose from him as he laughed. Who could possibly want to enslave this adorable, sweet creature? It took a lot of effort to not scoop the little guy up and cuddle him close. There was something magnetic, hypnotizing about him, from how his dim flames slowly danced in deep reds, the way he smiled up at me so warmly, to his voice that seemed much bigger than he was. 

“I am sorry that you are sick,” I said, feeling wretchedly guilty and sad that he was in such a state. His smile faltered a little, becoming bittersweet as he worried at the blanket in his little hands. God that was cute. He was going to make me implode from cute overload if he kept being adorable. I couldn’t handle it. 

“It isn’t your fault, Siobhahn,” He replied, saying my name the way it was meant to be said and it had the hairs on the back of my neck rising in a way that was anything but bad. He had a bit of the Irish accent as well, though it was muted, probably from being in the Underground for so long. Thinking about it, he had to be ancient. It was baffling, “ I understood your grandfather’s concerns. Eventually.”

“Still. I should have been told. Especially if you were in danger all of this time,” I muttered, feeling more anger at my grandfather. 

“I assume that Mr. Warren has explained much of the situation?” Grillby asked softly. He looked a bit like he wanted the pillows to swallow him up so that he wouldn’t have to look at me. 

“Yes. No. A little?” I admitted, tilting my head a bit as I tried to get a handle on the information I had been given earlier. Grillby laughed again, and the sound of it eased the tension in my body and returned a smile to my lips. I realised then that I really liked the sound of his laugh, seeing him at least a little happy or amused, even at my own expense. That should have been odd. It wasn’t. “ I was told that my ancestors made a stupid, cruel choice and that now because I haven’t connected with you, continuing their stupidity, that you are dying.”

“That would be the long and short of it, yes,” He said with a sad smile. I didn’t want to see that smile, didn’t want him to be sad or hurting or sick and definitely not dying. No one deserved that. 

“How can I help?” I asked, feeling determination build in my gut. My family fucked up. It wasn’t fair that now it was my responsibility to deal with it, but I was going to do my best to fix it. I wasn’t going to let the man in the bed in front of me die because of them. He stared at me; going still and quiet. Hesitantly, he reached his arms out to me, the small sleeves of his red pyjamas falling up to reveal more of his fiery skin that seemed to shift a little faster than before. Was he nervous? My own nerves kicked up a few notches as I gently reached out to place my index finger in his hands. He was almost cold, more of a lukewarm and he smiled up at me around my finger. He was soft, skin feeling very similar to my own. I was very certain that he shouldn’t be this cool to the touch. Little hands curiously stroked my skin and he nuzzled his face against my finger with a little sound that made my heart hurt. Was he borrowing heat from me? Poor guy.

“This might be awkward. I am sorry for that,” the elemental murmured, obviously embarrassed and nervous about the whole thing. I gently stroked the top of his head, the flame like hair dancing and sparking under my touch and he let out a contented sigh.

“It’s alright. This whole day has been awkward. You can’t make it any worse,” I joked with a chuckle that brought a shy little smile to his face. 

“Because of my size and current state, I will need your help. I need to be close to your heart to start the process and it may take a while for it to take. I haven’t had to do this in a very long time,” He confessed. Oh. Well then. 

“Why not lay down, doll? It’ll be easier,” Sans said from the doorway and I jumped, hand curling protectively to shield Grillby as I turned to glare at the skeleton. 

“He is correct,” Grillby added, picking up on my distress somehow and patting my finger reassuringly. I frowned at Sans and his grin grew. Ass. My attention turned back to Grillby and I sighed. 

“Usually I’d at least like dinner first before getting in bed with a man, but I guess I’ll make an exception for you since you’re so hot,” I told him with a wink and he threw a glare at Sans that had me raising an eyebrow. 

“Oooh no, don’t look at me. That is all her,” Sans stated, putting his hands up and trying poorly to stop laughing at the elemental’s indignation. I had a feeling the he dealt with a lot of fire puns on a regular basis courtesy of the little shit in the doorway. 

“Sans.” Grillby stated in a tone that was warning and the skeleton chuckled more, backing out of the room and closing it quietly. The sigh that left me was frustrated. “Don’t let him get to you. He is just worried.”

“Easier said than done,” I replied with a grimace. I toed off my sandals and chewed on my lower lip nervously , glancing down at Grillby awkwardly. “Right then. I’ll just um, pick you up then, if that is alright?”

“Yes, please?” Grillby agreed and under his nervousness, I could see that he was eager, somehow. I probably should have questioned why I could interpret his body language, the way his flames changed so well. Probably. Maybe another day. Very carefully, I scooped his tiny form into my hand and he curled around my thumb as though it were a body pillow. I did not squeal and coo at him. That would have been inappropriate. He was dressed in cute little pjs made of a soft, silky fabric in a dark red, his bare feet exposed to the cool air. Not wanting him to be uncomfortable for long, I pulled back the covers with one hand and adjusted the pillows before carefully climbing in and settling myself. I reclined back against the pillows and headboard and lowered Grillby onto the skin over my heart, exposed thanks to the rounded neckline of my top.

The little monster let out a groan that was almost lewd, shivering and pressing himself against my skin as much as he could. It tickled a little and everywhere our skin touched tingled. Carefully, I pulled the covers up so that most of him was covered and tried to focus on slowing my heart rate. He was a tiny cute monster. This was not weird. I was definitely NOT feeling moderately aroused by the sound of his voice. And then the little guy was sluggishly pulling off his shirt. 

“U-um, Grillby?” I asked hesitantly, face suddenly burning as I looked fixedly at the ceiling. 

“I apologize. I know, it’s awkward. More skin helps and forgive me but I am freezing and you are so warm,” He mumbled, clearly just as embarrassed about the situation as I was. The monster tossed the small bits of fabric away until he was nude and resting his head on my collar bone, sprawling across the left side of my chest like a cat in a sunbeam. 

“It’s alright,” I said softly, knowing that he could probably feel and hear how rapidly my heart was pounding. I’ve been in bed with a naked man before. This should not been as embarrassing as it was, but holy shit, my face had never been so red before. And that is saying something, because I know that my face can go pretty damn red. I felt him tugging a few thick locks of hair down to curl around and use as a pillow and even that was cute despite how awkward the situation was. Purely of its own volition, my right hand moved up to cover him, index finger gently stroking over the flames on the top of his head again and again and he groaned out a sound that was very similar to a purr, one arm curled around the lock of hair and the other draping around my thumb. Nope, not weird at all. 

I don’t know when or how it happened, but at some point I fell asleep. The little light on my chest was comfortable and soothing, the flames that composed his skin lapped at mine in a continuous, gentle sensation that seemed to permeate through me, my flesh, my bones, my heart, into something else, something bigger, more important. I had dreams; dreams of fire.

 

The sound of voices tugged me to consciousness. I was extremely comfortable I noted and wanted nothing more than to settle back into the pillow and sleep more. It was warm, incredibly so, but not in an overbearing way and the little fluttering being resting on my chest was the source of it all. Blearily, I opened my eyes, suddenly remembering where I was and what I was doing there with a start. Grillby also stirred with an unhappy grumble under my hand and nuzzled determinedly back into my hair. I glanced at the source of the noise, free hand moving to cradle Grillby better as I lifted myself up enough to look at Papyrus. 

“Ah! Forgive me human, I didn’t mean to wake you,” The skeleton stage whispered and I had to chuckle. Grillby seemed to heat up under the sound, the room brightening considerable in reaction. I blinked down at his glowing form curiously. He was more than just a low, dull red hue now and was more of a healthy shade of red and orange and yellow, the flames on his head longer but still tranquil in sleep. “Thank goodness. He looks so much better.” 

“I’m glad,” I hummed softly, “how long were we asleep?” 

“Only about three hours. I came up to see if you were hungry at all but Sans said not to disturb you, “ the big skeleton answered sheepishly. Jeez. I had never been good at sleeping in a stranger’s house. Even when I was younger and tried to do sleepovers, usually partway through Pap or someone had to come and pick me up or I would stay up the whole night. It was an unsettling, uncomfortable feeling trying to sleep in a strange place. But I didn’t feel that here, even with Sans nearby. 

“ I could eat,” came the groggy voice of Grillby from my clavicle. Papyrus let out a gleeful sound and zipped out of the room, shutting the door again gently before his loud footsteps echoed down the hall. 

“He’s...energetic,” I stated and Grillby snickered. I sat up further now that he was awake, holding him to the area over my heart as I propped myself up.

“Very.” The elemental agreed dryly. I closed my eyes as the little monster redressed to give him privacy and he seemed extremely amused by that, so much so that he left his shirt off intentionally, I think to be cheeky. He was surprisingly fit looking for a six inch tall man made of fire. And he knew it. 

“How are you feeling?” I asked and the smile he gave me had a happy, warm feeling bouncing through my insides. 

“Much better, thank you. I’ve a long way to go yet, but this is the best I’ve felt in years,” He replied gratefully as he perched himself on my lap. I couldn’t have stopped myself from stroking the side of his face with a single finger if I had tried. His face took on an almost blue white hue, the color of extremely hot flames and he leaned into my touch almost shyly. Was that a blush? Oh gosh that was cute. 

“You look healthier, even to me,” I commented and he fixed me with a stare.  
“Don’t you mean hotter?” He droned sardonically and startled laughter spilled from my lips and he grinned cheekily. Then his face went serious, “ do not tell Sans that I said that. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Secret is safe with me,” I giggled with a wink that had that blush flaring up across his cheeks again,” Sooo, about this bond. Can I ask you some questions?”

He seemed to gather himself a bit and then nodded. Tender subject I guessed. Obviously. Okay, easy questions first. 

“Do you know how it works, exactly?” I began, tucking the extra fabric of the sheet around his shoulders to keep up warm and hopefully secure. He held the edges of it with tiny fingers and looked down at his lap.

“It’s complicated. Mostly, it is tied to my magic, my soul. I still do not fully understand the spell that was used on me originally. I don’t know much about human magic. I know it is a form of blood magic and that not even the strongest monster magic can break it. I’ve tried. In the beginning, your ancestor trapped me and tied me to his daughter to protect and serve her. My magic is literally infused with the blood of your clan,” Grillby explained tentatively and I frowned, “ I must obey direct orders and I cannot physically harm you in anyway, magic or otherwise. My first instinct, even against my wishes, will be to protect you always.” 

“Why specifically women in the clan though? I mean, how does the magic select someone?” I asked, a bit bewildered. I was very much a hard facts, science explains all sort of gal so this talk of magic was hard for me to wrap my brain around. 

“I believe it has to do with the spell components and the fact that the first person I was enslaved to was female. Magic is very specific. Usually,” He replied. The word “enslaved” was painful, had me hating myself a bit. I was very against the idea that a number of humans had gotten in their heads about monsters making interesting pets. This situation was similar and all of it made me feel gross and dirty. He seemed to notice because he stared at me with accessing eyes, “ You really dislike all of this, don’t you?” 

It felt a bit like a trick question. 

“Not all of it,” I admitted and there was a subtle shift in him that I hadn’t expected. He wasn’t just a cute, sweet little man in need of help. Suddenly he was brighter, flames barely moving as he watched me with something almost predatory behind those white irises, something dangerous. And yet, I wasn’t afraid of him, though instinctively I felt like I should have been terrified of what was sitting in my lap. No, instead there was this pleasant little flutter in my stomach and I gave him a small, crooked grin, “ I did have an excuse to sleep with a hot man.”

He blinked wide eyes at me owlishly and a scalding blush raced across his suddenly grinning features. The aura about him; because there was no other word for it, shifted to something playful, something equally dangerous. 

“I see. Playing with fire?” He drawled with a hint of warning, voice a low, crackling tenor that was far too attractive. 

“Oh I’d like to,” The words were out of my mouth before I could help myself. Again. He looked like he swallowed his tongue if he had one, and then there was a flicker of something hungry in his expression that my ego deeply appreciated. Why in the hell was I flirting with this poor guy?! Why in the hell couldn’t I stop myself?! He was half a foot tall and a monster! How did that even work? Also he was sick and recovering and in some convoluted way I was considered his...what? Mistress? Ugh no. That was an awful thought in context. And yet I wanted to flirt with him. I liked seeing his body light up with a blush and that bashful grin. His reactions alone made it worth it. And his voice wasn’t helping matters. It was so easy to flirt with him. The man was basically a walking pickup line all on his own. I could not be blamed for my weakness. I cleared my throat a little sheepishly, feeling a bit bad for teasing him, “I am not interested in having a servant or anything like that, Grillby. The whole idea of it makes me feel dirty and not in a good way.”

“That is reassuring?” He didn’t sound reassured of anything and instead very skeptical. 

“Mmhn I believe you,” I said sarcastically to the sound of him letting out a little huff, “ look, I am not going to pretend to understand what life has been like for you. I can’t even imagine waking up one day and being told that I have no freedom and that I have to obey the orders of some assholes forever and then being trapped in a mountain for countless years after. You finally get out of the cave and suddenly you go from one cage back to another and surprise! This one can kill you if you run from it. Yeah every bit of that sounds horrible and I am sorry that it is happening.”

“I. Thank you,” he said softly, looking grateful and miserable all at once. “ It is just very difficult not to expect the worst when it comes to humans.”

“I get that. Can’t blame you. A lot of humans are shit. Sometimes it is hard to find the good ones in the mess,” I agreed and he laughed, giving me a funny look. 

“You are very blunt,” He observed. Oh yes.

“I like to call myself tact deficient. Makes it sound fancy and like a medical condition that I don’t have to apologize for,” I replied cheekily and he laughed more. 

“I want to understand what is happening with us, what to expect, what I can do to keep you from being miserable. That’s all. I don’t know you at all, but I already like you a lot and I’d like to be your friend at the very least if you have to be stuck with me. If that is okay with you?” I said finally, hands twisting together nervously in front of me at the admission, just knowing that I was likely on the verge of another blush. His smile became soft and he glowed a bit brighter, happier looking in general.

“That is very okay with me,” He answered quietly and I smiled uncontrollably, looking down so that a curtain of my hair helped hide my sudden shyness under his stare. 

“Well this looks like fun,” Sans commented obnoxiously from the door that I hadn’t heard him open. Creepy shit! I jerked to look at him and chucked a pillow at him on reflex. He sidestepped it with a chuckle. 

“Quit sneaking up on me, asshole!” I hissed. He pouted about as well as a skeleton could pout.

“Awh but I was bonely,” He snickered. I gave him the most unimpressed face I could manage. “ ouch, tough crowd. Careful kid, that look could kill-”

“Yes yes, if you weren’t already dead, I see what you did there, hah hah. No,” I interrupted and Sans looked like he had a comeback but Papyrus chose that moment to screech his name loudly from somewhere else in the house. 

“Food’s done if you love birds can get out of bed long enough,” Sans said with a grin. 

“Sans,” both Grillby and I stated at the same time only to turn and look at each other funny. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen a bigger grin on a person’s face. Ever. I was fairly convinced that if Sans smiled any wider his head would split in two. The cheeky monster vanished down the hall before I could throw more things at him. I huffed quietly and slumped, glancing at Grillby. 

“Is he always this much of a pain?” I asked and the fire elemental snickered. 

“Only when he has an audience or knows he can get an entertaining reaction out of his current target,” Grillby said. Lovely.

**Author's Note:**

> Wheee~! Have a new story, because the world needs more Grillby love. I hope that you like Vahn. She's mouthy and temper-mental, but a good girl deep down. There was a temptation to make this a reader fic but honestly, I am trash at writing second person pov. So First person it is! Updates may be slow, thanks to work and to my other fic Claret, but I couldn't resist sharing this to you. This will have hints of Grillby's horrible past, violence, my own take on magic and soul stuff as well as some Irish myth hints here and there. Enjoy!


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